


Sunset

by Dark_Ruby_Regalia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Some kind of countryhouse AU, What A Time To Get Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 11:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19317490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia/pseuds/Dark_Ruby_Regalia
Summary: A little thing about Nyx contemplating the circumstances that led him to this moment, in which the sunset is golden on his face and Cor is hot and needy at his back. There's really not a lot more to it than that :)Set in an AU in which Nyx was helping Cor do up an old estate, then they ended up quite wonderfully in love.





	Sunset

 

Nyx finds himself gazing through age-warped glass, squinting far beyond the rolling hills and the silhouette of treetops to see the sky ablaze in gold and amber while the sun dips low, hanging an ominous hazy orb poised to kiss the horizon before slipping bit by bit below. 

A firm hand makes contact at the small of his back, drifts confident around his waist, squeezes strong and sure at his hip. Nyx sets his drink down on the windowsill when he feels a breath on his neck and a body press itself against his. The thin line of Cor’s mouth parts on his skin to test an earlobe between teeth; he huffs a small growl into the side of Nyx’s neck, an unmistakable, urgent request. 

Nyx tilts his head to give permission, closing his eyes to the sunset, a slow smile growing full on his face. “I notice you’ve got a head start,” he says, adjusting his hips in Cor’s grip, feeling Cor already grown half-hard, unyielding. 

“You’ll catch up,” comes the gruff whisper he receives in return; a timbre he now knew was unique to these moments, when Cor came to him in a fog of desire, his eyes blown and unfocused, his hands tuned acutely to seeking Nyx’s soft spots and spending some unhurried time there.

Cor circles Nyx full in his arms, reaching one up beneath the hem of Nyx’s shirt to spread fingers wide and possessive against his chest. The other he winds low around Nyx’s waist, pulling him as close as he can possibly be, directly against the fire taking hold in his pants. He rolls a slow rut against Nyx’s buttocks while he claws at Nyx’s chest, buries his face in the crook of Nyx’s shoulder and stops there. Just holding him. 

_ This is it, _ Nyx caught himself thinking.  _ I have him. _ It wasn’t conquest related; not possessive. A disbelief of circumstance, to realise this man - this solid, self-contained, impenetrable soldier - was right now crumbling against his back overcome by desire that couldn’t wait for the bottom of a glass, nor a drawn curtain, nor even for Nyx to turn around for a kiss. 

Nxy braces himself with both hands against the windowsill while Cor makes fast work of his button and zip. His cock falls loose without a fight, hanging into the air beneath the curve of his bent body, swelling in the dwindling golden light, pulsing against gravity. Bowed like this, Nyx gets to watch while Cor touches everywhere  _ but; _ while he smooths his hand over every inch of flesh across his belly and hip-bones, falling into the dip of skin that funnels him  _ too low _ to Nyx’s inner thigh. Cor squeezes at that pale, sensitive flesh; Nyx’s cock jumps in unison with his intake of breath. 

All this for  _ me, _ Nyx thinks, and he throws his head back in ecstasy as a tight grip finally wraps secure and familiar around his length. He stops himself whispering a  _ thank you _ ; stops because this  _ thank you _ seems too profound, and has nothing to do with how good it feels to be massaged by these palms, stroked slow the way he likes it, to have this grip relinquished for the briefest moment before it returns with a lick-wet thumb that swirls small circles around his slit.  _ Gods help, _ Nyx swears, as his knees weaken; as his heart beats hard in his chest and he keens a desperate whimper in a huff of breath-fog against windowpane. He can just see Cor reflected in the clear glass above it - a dark silhouette hunched low over his sunset-stained shoulder -  and he’s not sure why he’s so overwhelmed by this moment, yet here he is having a revelation while his pants pool at his ankles and the rough denim-clad bulge of his lover rubs up against his bare arse. He’s sure his inner monologue isn’t striking the proper tone here - so fast overcome by unexpected sentimentality - but he can’t help it. Can’t help but crumble himself as he realises how much he  _ owns _ in this moment; how much he has to be grateful for, and from there, of course, how much he now has to lose. 

The wood of the windowsill beneath his white-knuckled grip had been smoothed and sanded by both their hands with the breeze of a late summer storm whipping through the frame; soon after they’d painted the room together, all four walls from cornice to skirting to the tune of Nyx’s contented humming and Cor’s amused over-the-shoulder-glances, as soundless as he always was, a smile in his eyes a new crack in his facade. They hadn’t been lovers then, but remembering it all, Nyx can see now how Cor had already let him in; had trusted his hands to shape his home, not knowing then it would eventually be his too; that he’d find himself all these seasons later digging his nails into the perfection of the clear-finish, watching the surface of his whiskey shudder for the shock of two bodies colliding over its rim.

Nyx sucks in a breath as his thighs tremble; focuses his eyes on the head of his cock just in time to see a long string of precome let go to spat on the floor between his feet. Gods, did he ever catch up fast tonight. Apparently he was terrified of being left behind. “If you don’t--” he’s interrupted by his own hips bucking involuntary into Cor’s grip-- “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to finish this without you.”

_ Without you. _ What a lie. What a godsdamned lie. As if anything he’s done for the last year and a half didn’t include at least a trace of Cor in the action.

Behind him, with chest pressed broad across his back, he  _ feels _ rather than hears Cor chuckle. And his cock is dropped without mercy back to swing in the space between, leaving Nyx gasping on the edge of what almost was. Cor turns him in his arms and guides him into a kiss unexpectedly tender by contrast to the fervor that hastened them there. 

_ I have him, _ he thinks again, as Cor steps backward into the twilight of the room, pulling Nyx along with him. 


End file.
